Devils and Demons
by ChibiDawn23
Summary: Matt Murdock, the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen," meets the devil at the top of the NYPD's Most Wanted list. His fate lies in the hands of Detective Don Flack, Jr., who is dealing with his own demons in Hell's Kitchen. Rated for language, suggestive situations, torture. A darker departure from what I usually write. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "Daredevil," they belong to Marvel. I also don't own the characters of "CSI:NY," they belong to Anthony Zuiker.**

**Author's**** Note: Okay, serious author's note, here we go...**

**I've always written that I write because it's cheaper than therapy. Sometimes, you just have a rough day, and you need to vent some frustration. Well, this was born out of some frustration and stress, and so it's a bit darker than what I usually write, thus the rating. I needed a creative outlet, and writing was it. Yes, it's a weird crossover, I totally get that. But Matt Murdock is a guy who can usually see things coming and get himself out of trouble, he doesn't normally need saving. Also, I was bingeing "Daredevil" and Matt, well, Matt drew short straw. It kinda fit my mood with the show being darker. It's a weird departure for me, so it's a different kind of story for me. And then I thought well, it would make a good casefic and I kinda missed the CSI:NY characters so...yeah. I don't know that you really have to know anything about either show to understand this story. Maybe that Matt was hinted at in Season 1 to be kind of a womanizer and Flack's in a pretty dark place after he loses his partner.**

**This was also inspired by a prompt off The Writer's Circle Facebook page, something about wanting a female villain who was evil for the hell of it with no sympathetic angle. Challenge accepted.**

**I know the timelines don't really jive, but this would be somewhere Season 1ish for "Daredevil" (mentions of Fisk) and between Season 5 and 6 for CSI:NY (right after Jess Angell is killed).**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE:**

It was 11:35 when Foggy Nelson decided to pack it in. Matt Murdock heard the clink of his beer bottle on the table, over the sounds of .38 Special on the jukebox, the crack of pool cues and balls and the conversations going on around him. He'd focused in on it because it was…well, it…was _early_. By both of their standards.

"Leaving so soon?" Matt asked him, surprised. He heard the scrape of Foggy's barstool, heard the sound of him shrugging on his jacket.

"Yeah, I've got that meeting at 9 a.m. tomorrow because Karen 'forgot' I usually drink 'til one," Foggy reminded him, and Matt could feel the air quotes even without seeing them. Matt grinned; he remembered that shouting match well. He could've been down the block and heard them just fine, even without his enhanced hearing. Karen had reminded Foggy that the client came first; Foggy argued that the client came after the rounds of Jameson's. Matt hadn't said anything, choosing to enjoy imagining the facial expressions.

In the end, Karen had won, because apparently, neither one of them could say 'no' to Karen Page and actually mean it.

"Sorry, what?" Matt realized Foggy had been talking to him and he looked up over his own glass to where Foggy was standing, in the middle of the aisle.

"I said, what about you?" Foggy repeated, sounding annoyed. Matt suspected it was directed more toward Karen and his nine o'clock appointment than Matt's apparent ignoring of him.

"Oh, I'm gonna stay awhile," Matt told him. He shook his glass and offered his friend a grin. "Some of us don't have to get up in the morning."

"Bastard," Foggy tossed at him, but Matt could hear that he was (mostly) joking. "Fine. But next time Karen schedules something at the asscrack of dawn, it's your turn."

Matt saluted him with the glass. "Fair enough," he agreed. "See you tomorrow. Eight a.m. work for you to go over the Hawkins deposition?"

"Bite me!" he heard Foggy yell over his shoulder as he headed for the door. Matt laughed as he downed the rest of his drink.

* * *

"Lover's spat?"

The woman's voice made Matt jump. _I must've drank more than I thought_, he thought. This was the second time in less than ten minutes something had caught him off guard. She sat across from him, in Foggy's vacated place. He could smell just a hint of something…something berry. Her shampoo, maybe, no, _definitely_ her shampoo as she leaned over the table. "Ah, no," Matt responded. "My partner." Then, he realized how that sounded, and hastily amended, "_Law_ partner."

"I'm glad you clarified that," she said with a hint of a smile in her voice. "Otherwise this would've been a very short conversation."

Matt grinned. "I don't recognize you," he told her. "You ever been in Josie's before?"

This time, she laughed. It was a low-pitched, throaty laugh. "No, first time. A friend talked me into it."

"Your friend has horrible taste," Matt told her, and she laughed again. He was enjoying the sound.

"Or really _good_ taste," she countered. "Depending on how the night goes."

"You're awfully forward," Matt said. Then, he nodded understandingly. _Ah_. "Your friend dare you to come talk to me, or…?"

He felt her slide out of his personal space, back onto the stool. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she's putting this on Snapchat," she admitted, sounding embarrassed. "It's my birthday. I swear Shannon's one goal is to get me laid tonight."

"Sounds like a great friend," Matt teased. "So she had you come talk to the blind guy in the suit?" He sat back. "'Cause you know, I can't tell if you're ugly or not," he added, tapping his glasses.

She snorted indignantly. "For the record," he caught a whiff of the berry again as she tossed her hair, "I'm gorgeous." She laughed, and Matt laughed with her. "Anyway, do me a favor?" she asked him. "She won't get off my back about this, so…" He heard the nervousness in her voice. "Could you at least act like you think I'm worth going home with?"

Matt was reminded of his college days. Going to the spot off campus with Foggy, trying their damndest to get girls to come back to their dorm with them. Playing off each other. Foggy's line, "_He may be blind, but there's nothing wrong with the rest of him, if you get my drift." _How many times had they dared each other to go home with a co-ed?

"Well, since it _is_ your birthday," Matt played along, "and I'd hate for your friend to give you hell the rest of the night…" He tossed some cash on the table to cover his tab and stood up. "How about I walk you back to my place, or, I guess, you walk me, and then when we get there-"

Her heatbeat picked up. "Ohh, oh no, wait, I can't-" She was stammering now.

Matt cringed. _Oops._ "No, that's not what I meant," he assured her. "We go in, and we hang out on the stairs until we know your friends aren't hiding in the window wells and I call you a cab to take you home."

She coughed out a short laugh. "And how do I know you're not some serial killer?"

Matt reached into his pocket, pulled out a card and offered it to her. Karen had made up like 500 of them on some website that was giving them away for ten bucks and shipping. He slid it across the table.

"Nelson and Murdock. Attorneys at Law." Matt snickered as she read it out loud. "What? Laughing because it's fake, or what?"

"No, inside joke," Matt promised her. "Anyway, I'm a blind lawyer," he told her. "I'm literally the last candidate for a serial killer."

He waited. He could tell she was thinking about it, she was turning the card over in her fingers, he could hear it flicking against her nails. Finally, she said, "How far is your place?"

"Maybe before we go, we should swap names," Matt suggested. "I'm Matt."

"Matt," she rolled the name around. He liked the way she said it, the way she enunciated the 't' at the end. "And are you the Nelson or the Murdock of Nelson and Murdock?"

"Murdock," Matt told her. "Matthew Murdock."

He waited. "Amanda," she said a moment later. "Amanda Hines."

"Well then, Amanda, Amanda Hines," Matt said, standing and grabbing his cane. "Let's make this good for your friend Shannon, shall we?"

Amanda laughed again. He could feel her push on his shoulder so her mouth was level with his ear. "We're walking by her now."

He dipped his head low to return the gesture. "Give her a wave," he whispered, felt her shiver.

* * *

Had Matt been a little more observant and alert, he would have noted that there was a second set of eyes watching them as they left Josie. A pair of ice blue eyes belonging to a man in dark denim jeans, a blue longsleeve shirt, and black leather jacket had watched the entire exchange from the bar, behind a beer that was either his third or fourth, he'd lost track. He leaned back against the bar, half watching the Rangers game on the flat screen TV in the corner, half watching the exchange at the table across the grimy floor.

_She's good_, he noted, watching "Amanda" flirt with the blind guy at the high top. There were a lot of guys around the precinct that wondered how exactly she was getting guys to go anywhere with her…but watching her in action, it was painfully obvious. Unconsciously, his hand drifted to his jacket, where his service pistol was tucked in the inside pocket. His partner had talked him out of his shoulder holster-telling him he'd stick out in a place like Josie's, and she'd been right.

He set his beer on the table and threw down some cash to cover it. Then, he got up to follow his suspect out of the bar.

He'd taken no more than a step or two before the bar erupted in cheers as the Rangers scored a goal. By the time he'd weaved through the crowd and stepped outside, the woman and the blind guy were gone.

Detective Don Flack, Jr. swore. _Shit_. He looked up and down both sides of the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go. It was empty in either direction.

_Shit, now what? _His partner would have told him to call for backup, but Flack didn't have that kind of time. And she wasn't around to reason with him, to talk him out of looking for a serial killer in a neighborhood of New York City where it definitely wasn't safe for _anyone_, badge or not, to be walking around at night. _Fuck it. _He randomly chose a direction, and started walking.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**12:05 AM**

The air was cool outside Josie's as Matt led Amanda in the direction of his building. She'd thought it was weird when he directed her down the alley between Josie's and the tenement next to it, but it was the fastest way to his place. The two of them chatted, Matt found out Amanda was working her way through the graphic arts program at NYU and that she was a junior-_okay, so she's at least twenty-one_, that she was working a part time job at a Ray's Pizza outlet, and that she was shivering. "Here," he said after they'd gone a block or so. He paused and shrugged out of his suit jacket, then, adjusted her so that she was standing in front of him, and draped it over her shoulders.

"How did you-"

Matt laughed. "It's um, New York in November. Educated guess. It's a lawyer thing, drawing conclusions."

"Right." She chuckled softly before taking his arm again; this time, it was encased in the jacket. "You know, if it wasn't for the stick thing, and the fact that you wear your sunglasses at night, I'd never guess you were blind." She sang the 'sunglasses at night' part to the tune of the old 80s song.

"Well, I definitely am," he told her. _More or less_. "So, while we're walking…how about you tell me what you look like? I seem to recall you telling me at Josie's you were gorgeous."

"Oh…that," Amanda sounded embarrassed again. "Yeah, I may have overstated that." She glanced behind them, swore under her breath.

"So you're ugly _and_ you have a potty mouth," Matt teased her. "You're some girl."

"Sorry," she apologized. "It's just…Shannon and my friend Kate are following us. I'm pretty sure I saw Shan sneak back into the doorway back there."

_That's funny. I didn't sense anybody following us…_Amanda, apparently, was distracting. "My apartment is just up there," he said, pointing to the corner of the next block. He traded her arms, slid his through hers, let his hand slide down her back to rest just above her-_well damn, that's quit the asset_. "They're really intent on seeing this through, huh?"

"You said it," Amanda said dryly, "they're good friends." Matt stopped and looked down at her, slid the handle of his cane over his wrist, and reached up gingerly, finding the side of her face with practiced ease and slid her hair back behind her ear. Her face felt flushed. "Um," she whispered. "Yeah. Yeah that'll uh….sell it."

He chuckled softly and let his hand drift down her face before latching onto his cane again and starting forward. "Well at Nelson and Murdock, we're a…full-service firm."

He felt her hand move a split second before she grabbed his ass. "Not the only thing that's firm," she noted, and Matt glanced down at her in surprise, one eyebrow raised over his ruby-lensed glasses. "Sorry!" she apologized under her breath. "I-I was just-"

"Selling it?" Matt asked, felt her shake as she nodded vigorously. "It's okay, don't worry about it."

Despite that, they walked the rest of the way in awkward silence. Matt listened to her breathing-it was starting to pick up, as if she didn't really believe he was going to walk her to the door like a gentleman and let it be at that. "They still back there?" Matt asked, which bothered him, because he _still_ didn't get the vibe that anyone was back there, and was starting to wonder if the whole thing was just a song and dance. If that was the case then _damn_, Amanda Hines was dedicated.

"Yeah, they just ducked around the corner. Like they think I don't know," Amanda snorted.

Matt unlocked the door, listening for the click of the tumblers and feeling the give in the handle. He waited, his hand on the door.

"Look, I um, I appreciate you, you know, dragging it out this long, but um…" Amanda's voice held a note of nerves. "Look I can always lie and say that you were some asshole, and then they'll spend the rest of the night being pissed at you, instead of focusing on the fact that I didn't get any."

"How about you come up, we'll see how this plays out?" Matt offered. His senses were on edge now. For one thing, he hadn't sensed anyone behind them since they left Josie's.

For another, Amanda's heartbeat was stone-cold steady, even though her tone of voice said otherwise.

Something was up, and Matt would rather be on his own turf than in the middle of the street when he found out exactly what that was. Matt wasn't sure _what_ he'd gotten himself into, but he was thankful Foggy had skipped out early. Either this was somehow related to Fisk or the Russians, or Amanda was just a garden-variety crazy with the incredible luck of picking up the Devil of Hell's Kitchen in a bar.

In either case, Matt knew, it was going to make for an interesting night.

It didn't surprise him when she accepted the offer, threw a glance over his shoulder at her fake 'good friends', and let him bring her up the stairs to his front door. He did a mental inventory-his suit was tucked away in his closet, under Battlin' Jack Murdock's boxing gear, no laptop out for her to crack, and Foggy and Karen were both at home…_It'll just be you and me_. "Want a drink?" he asked her as he set his cane inside the door.

"I'm good. Wow, you've got quite the view." He heard Amanda drifting into the living room, knew she was looking at the massive LED billboard on the side of the building across the street from his, the one that had gotten him such a killer deal on his apartment. Nobody wanted to live in a top floor apartment with a bright LED display for a Japanese airline cycling through at all hours of the night. Nobody, except the one blind guy with the cash on hand, apparently.

"Yeah."

"It's bright!" He rolled his eyes behind his glasses and mouthed the rest of the exclamation along with her- _Not that it bothers you, huh_?

He played along. "I've never really noticed."

She laughed, and now, the sound he had enjoyed earlier was more of an annoyance. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't."

"How about you cut the act, Amanda?" Matt finally said. "If that's even your real name."

Something changed in the air. When she spoke, the co-ed was gone. "It's not," she told him. Her voice was a little higher, a little shriller. "What gave me away?" She sounded honestly curious.

"Well, if we're divulging secrets…" Matt took off his glasses and stepped down into the living room. She was still over by his window, her silhouette in his echolocation pulsing with the light from the LED billboard. "Your heartbeat is completely steady right now, not quick if you were a nervous NYU student afraid I was going to steal her birthday virginity." He turned to stare at her, felt her move a little closer to him. "For another, your so-called friends never existed, and I could tell because I didn't hear any footsteps behind us, or giggling like co-ed girls would do. They're shit at being subtle. Trust me, I remember."

"Impressive. I've heard the senses compensate when you lose one, but that seems a bit extreme." Amanda said. "I mean, Jesus, you can like, hear my _heartbeat_? That's...wow." Matt felt her moving closer to him. His muscles tensed. _To take her out or not to take her out…_

"So what the hell do you want?" Matt asked her finally, deciding to let it play out. It was just one woman. Matt could handle one woman.

He felt the shift in the air, but didn't have time to move before the twin barbs of the Taser lashed out across the room, connecting with his chest and sending his senses into a frenzy. Matt's 'vision' became pinpricks of light as he tried to go at her, his body jerking. Then, the reds, oranges, and yellows faded into black as he dropped to his knees and slumped forward. Something moved in the fuzzy edges of his echolocation, slammed his temple into the corner of the radiator, and all went dark.

If he'd been conscious, he would have heard "Amanda" reply, "I just want to play."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from "Daredevil"; they belong to Marvel. I also don't own the characters of "CSI:NY," they belong to Anthony Zuiker.**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE:**

Flack kept his eyes bouncing around the neighborhood as he walked. The city echoed around him, a sound he was numb to.

His mind drifted back to the first crime scene-or was it the second or third…she'd been at this awhile.

"_Thought you were on administrative leave,"_ _Lindsay Messer greeted Flack as he stepped over the threshold into the entryway of the brownstone. _

"_Nice to see you too," Flack shot back. "And no. First day back, if that's okay with you."_

_Lindsay held up a hand in a pacifying gesture. "Welcome back," she said dryly._

"_Flack, hey," Adam Ross pointed out as he brushed past him with his kit, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape. He looked up at the taller detective, opened his mouth to say something, and then decided against it._

_Flack rolled his eyes and surveyed the scene. "Damn. Somebody had a good time," he noted dryly, looking at the floor and furniture, which were splattered in varying degrees of blood spatter._

"_No kidding," Lindsay agreed, kneeling carefully by the body. "Should've brought the hazmat suits." She looked up to where Adam had set his kit in a clean spot in the kitchen. "Adam, see any ID anywhere?"_

_Adam rifled through the pile of envelopes on the table. "Got a ConEdison bill here for a Mr. Christopher Crawford," he said. "And an issue of Men's Health with the same name."_

"_She doesn't have a type," Flack made a note. "Last guy was a fat Wall Street broker, guy before that lived out in Queens and he was married. Mr. Crawford here seems to be in pretty good shape and lives halfway across the city from our first vic…" He shook his head. "All the things goin' down in Hell's Kitchen and this is what gets him. It's definitely her though, right?"_

_Lindsay nodded as she examined the body. "Estimating time of death at around 5AM. And oh yeah. Same marks on the vic, same COD-guy bled out-same signs of….well…"_

"_Someone enjoying themselves," Flack finished her sentence. He left the room without another word, leaving Lindsay and Adam alone in the room._

"_He never asked about D-" Adam began, but Lindsay held up a finger, silently shaking her head._

_"He's got other things on his mind."_

* * *

12:55 AM

_Well shit, Murdock, you wanted to be on your turf when things went down…_Matt came to slowly, with that thought ringing in his head. _Damn it._ Blacks and grays were giving way to his world on fire. His ears were ringing, aftereffects from the Taser volts coursing through his system. His head was killing him. His body felt sluggish, like there was syrup running through his veins.

He listened quietly for Amanda-he was just gonna stick with Amanda until she told him otherwise-around the apartment, finally detecting her heartbeat somewhere above him. He lay still, kept his eyes closed to give the impression he was still out, and took a mental inventory. He was lying on his back, on the living room rug. Something was biting into his wrists and ankles, and his chest felt cold.

_Okay then, you've been knocked out cold by a crazy alleged co-ed, who obviously gave you some kind of sedative and tied up your wrists and ankles. You're also missing your shirt._

_Foggy would have something to say about that…_

His mind was racing even as he forced his body to stay still. _So who the hell is Amanda Hines?_ He ran the name through his mind, but it didn't ring any bells. _Nothing in any recent cases…nothing connected to Wilson Fisk…_

_But she singled you out in that bar, Matt. Why?_ He didn't have an answer, and that bothered him more than his current predicament.

"Are you awake, Matt?" Amanda's singsong voice grated in his ears. "It's no fun if you're not awake."

"Fun…for who, exactly?" Matt ground out. He flexed his wrists behind his back, and ankles. There were tricks to getting out of zip ties, if you were in the right position to do it. Drugged and flat on your back was not one of them.

"Oh good, you _are_ awake!" She sounded like a little girl who just got told her friend could come over and play. She'd actually clapped her hands. "Now we can start!"

"Start _what_?" Matt asked her.

He felt her rise from the couch, felt the rug indent when she leaned down next to him. "The _fun_," she whispered in his ear, and he turned his head away, trying to get away from her. He felt her climb on top of him, positioning herself right at his hips where his pants rode.

_Shit. No. _No way in _hell_ was that going to happen. He willed his lower half to move, to throw her off, but whatever sedative she'd given him was making his reaction time ridiculously slow.

She laughed. "Calm down, Matt. It's a little early in our relationship for that, isn't it?" She leaned down over his chest, trailing her fingers up to his collar. It was then he realized he wasn't completely bare-chested. He was still wearing his tie.

"Well," Matt replied dryly, "this isn't one of my usual first dates, so…this is all a little new."

"You've got a good sense of humor, Matt." Amanda said, inches from his face. "I like that in a man."

"Yeah, well, I like my women a little less on the psychotic side," Matt shot back, an image of Elektra Natchios flitting unwillingly into his mind.

He could hear Amanda's heartbeat pick up, and before he knew it was coming, she'd leaned over him, grabbed his tie and pulled, _hard_. He felt his airway constrict and he choked, his body protesting the action, but not able to do anything about it besides a few feeble jerks. The way she was sitting, his hands and arms were pinned against the floor, and starting to go numb. His own heartbeat started to race, his face was getting warm, and he struggled for a breath of _anything_.

_Imagine if the papers knew. "'Devil of Hell's Kitchen' Murdered by 100lb Woman." The Post would have a field day. _Gray started edging his vision.

Almost as suddenly, she loosened it, and he coughed, sucking in greedy breaths. "_J-Jesus_!" he swore hoarsely.

"Oooh, careful Matt. That'll earn you time in confession," Amanda scolded him, sitting back on his hips again.

"F-Father L-Lantom will forgive me," Matt choked out.

"Oh, no kidding, you're Catholic?" Amanda sounded surprised. She yanked on his tie again, cutting off his airway again and he shuddered violently. "Huh. There's some inspiration for later," she mused thoughtfully as Matt struggled beneath her. She sighed and released her grip again and Matt gasped for breath. "Guess that means it'll be a long night for you, Matt Murdock."

Remembering what had set her off earlier, Matt realized his next choice of words weren't the best to keep him healthy, but it summed up how he felt. "You….y-you're fucking _crazy_," he breathed.

"Ugh!" Amanda got off of him and Matt tracked her to stand somewhere behind the couch. "_Everybody_ says that." He listened to the floorboards creak as she paced. "People….people get obsessed with stuff like sports teams or TV shows or….or hell, I don't know, _quilting_, and nobody calls _them_ crazy!" He heard her move to the kitchen, start rummaging through drawers. "I can't help it if this is a hobby. It's my life. People are so damn judgmental."

_Shit, whatever this is needs to wear off faster!_ Matt thought. He willed his body to move, and it started to, a little, but not enough for him to do anything.

He heard her slam a drawer shut, felt his blood run cold, as he was pretty sure he knew what she'd found. Adrenaline coursed as his fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

She was back, kneeling next to him on the rug. She tugged off his glasses and set them up on his forehead. "God, that's _so_ weird," she noted, calm again. She must have been looking at his eyes, which would've been unfocused on anything in particular. "How'd it happen? Were you born that way?"

_Maybe if I can keep her talking long enough…_ "Accident, when I was a kid," he whispered. "Chemicals got in my eyes."

"So you used to be able to see." Amanda was slapping something against her palm. "Well dude, that sucks." Matt felt her run the blade of one of his kitchen knives down the side of his face and he flinched away from the contact. "What's with the glasses?" she asked him.

"People generally don't like it when you can't make eye contact," Matt replied. "It's unsettling."

"Yeah, no shit," Amanda agreed. Matt felt the blade slide up his face, inbetween his nose and his right eye. "It's creepy as hell, actually." She got right in his face. "Your eyes look the same though, like, they're not red or misshapen or something. Maybe it would be _less_ creepy if, like, they actually _looked_ like they were broken."

_Fuck no!_ Matt had some feeling back in his legs, and thinking fast, he brought his knees up and jerked his hips sideways, knocking her off balance. She slid off him and he heard her curse as she ran into the coffee table. He heard the knife skitter away across the wood floor. He rose to a sitting position, pulling his bound hands out from behind his back, threading his legs through them. Before he could break the ties, Amanda was back with a scream of fury. She tackled him, driving him into the couch. His head hit the arm and she let loose with a furious rake of her fingernails across his face. Then, her arm moved and Matt yelped as the knife she'd somehow reacquired slashed him across the cheekbone. It wasn't deep, but it was _damn_ close to his eye. The coppery scent of blood filled his senses. He pushed her away with his hands, just starting to get pinpricks of feeling back in them, kicked out hard with his feet, sending her into one of the armchairs across the way.

He rolled off the couch, dropping awkwardly on his bound hands and rolled on his side. The burner phone he used to call Claire was on the countertop in the kitchen. _If I can get to it-_

Something dug into his shoulders and he growled in fury even as Amanda climbed onto his back, reached around to the front of him and got her hands around his tie again, turning it around his neck and pulling. She yanked his head up off the floor. "_Nobody_ has given me such a hard time like you, Matt," she hissed in his ear, loud and clear even as she strangled him. "This is _fun_," she added, then lifted his head by the hair and slammed it into the floor. The first time dazed him; the second time he succumbed to blackness.

* * *

"_She's definitely got medical training or at least some knowledge of human anatomy," Sid Hammerback flipped on the overhead light and positioned it over Christopher Crawford's body. "It's not much to go on, but Mr. Crawford here has some of the same wounds in non-lethal places as our other two victims."_

_Flack crossed his arms and waited for the medical examiner to continue. Beside him, Mac Taylor leaned in closer, watching Sid intently as he continued, "I can confirm Lindsay's COD theory-he bled out. I can't tell you which wound was the killing blow…I think they all were." Sid shivered. "It pains me to think someone out there took a vow to 'do no harm' and then is out there doing this."_

"_Somehow," Mac said, locking eyes with Flack, "I get the feeling they didn't take that vow."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's**** Note: Little graphic in this chapter.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

_1:45 AM_

The second time he woke up, things were different. This time, he was upright. His head was resting on his chest. _Sans tie this time_, Matt realized, not feeling the damn thing around his neck or dangling on his chest. _Thank God for small blessings_, he thought. His senses were on fire. He realized he was sitting in one of his kitchen chairs, and seated in front of the window, where the LED billboard was doing its' nightly scroll. That explained the bursts of light in his vision. He clenched a fist. More zip ties secured his arms to the chair back and his ankles to the legs of the chair. They were tighter this time too. _Guess my escape attempt didn't sit so well with her_. Speaking of…he tried to focus in on where she was. His mind was sluggish again and he wondered exactly how much sedative the human body could take. _Claire would know_, he thought. He wished he knew what time it was, but had a feeling he didn't want to know how much of the night was left. If he didn't show for work, Foggy or Karen would come looking for him.

He really didn't want them to find him dead. Or worse, to walk in while she was-

"So, are you awake or not?" Amanda's voice interrupted his thoughts, and a shadow passed through his field of vision as she stood between him and the window. He cursed himself for reacting-between his thoughts and the sedative he hadn't heard her coming. "It's seriously hard to tell with your freaky eyes. I mean, they're open, but that doesn't really mean shit."

"If they bother you so much, what the hell are you still doing here?" Matt shot back, his voice still hoarse. Heat radiated from under his jaw where she'd nearly succeeded in strangling him.

She chuckled, like what he'd said was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "It's early yet, Matt. I didn't want to leave so soon."

"I think…you've overstayed your welcome," Matt bit.

"You're such an ungrateful host, Matt," Amanda snapped. "Jesus, are you like this with all the girls you bring home?"

"Only the c-"

She was on him in a second, jerking his head back with a hand twisted in his hair and a knife under his throat. "If you say 'crazy' I'll slit your throat right here," she promised him, her voice like ice.

He froze, listening to her heartbeat. "I believe you," he said carefully. The pressure on his Adam's apple increased a little bit and he waited, but after a minute, she let go of his hair and the cool blade left his neck.

"I'm not crazy," Amanda told him.

_You're fucking kidding me_, he wanted to say. What he said was, "Then what are you, Amanda?" The more she talked, the less likely she was to start carving him up or worse. He was pretty sure he knew who she was now.

The press had given her the nickname of the Wraith. "A bit over the top," he'd told Foggy when his friend had showed him the article. But then, it was the same press that called him The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, so really, he should've figured she'd get something equally outrageous. She was wanted for questioning in at least two-or maybe three-other suspicious deaths in the city. The MO was a gruesome one-the victims were bleeding out from multiple wounds and it looked like she may have been playing around in the mess postmortem, although there was no forensic evidence in spite of it.

She hadn't been on his radar because he was too busy dealing with Fisk.

_Well, she's on the radar now…_

She sat down in his lap, wiggling to get comfortable. He willed his body not to respond. It wasn't too hard; it literally was the _last_ thing on his mind right now. Plus, with the sedative, he couldn't feel much anyway. Amanda leaned back against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Right now?" she returned the question. "I am…seriously bored." She glanced his arm with the knife, drawing blood across his bicep. He hissed in pain. She flipped around so she was straddling him, facing him. "Not really in the mood for talking. More in the mood for a little action." She drew the knife across his chest just below his collarbone, then back the other direction.

Matt's chest heaved as she kept slicing, nothing deep enough to make him bleed out, but enough to make him bleed. "Y-you sure you're n-not a med student?" he asked her.

She continued slicing as she pondered that. "Oh, 'cause I'm avoiding anything vital?" Her body swayed as she shook her head, continuing to nick his chest and moving down to his stomach. "Nah. I just read a lot." She dug the knife in a little deeper as if to punctuate the statement and Matt gasped. "Oops," she said, her voice sounding as though it wasn't.

He felt her set the knife in his lap, then start tracing on his chest with her fingernails. Any other time in the world it would be a sensation he'd fully enjoy, but her fingernails caught in the open wounds, setting his chest on fire. "Y-you get off on this?" he questioned her, writhing as she dug a little in the wound on his stomach.

"A little," she admitted quietly. "Something about pain and all the blood…" she was drawing something on his chest, digging into the slash on his stomach like it was a paint palette. "I just like it."

He felt her pick up the knife again and he twisted his body, igniting the wounds on his chest and stomach and sending pain floating through his midsection. "You ruined it," she informed him, poking the tip of the knife into the soft part below his jaw. The motion pushed his head up and he held his breath.

"Quit moving around, I might hit something important." As if to prove her point, she put her hand on the stomach wound and pushed. He gasped from the shock. His field of vision flashed deep crimson.

"Fuck. You," he ground out through his clenched teeth.

"Oh relax, Matt," Amanda said, "That's not 'til later." She got up close to his face. He could smell the alcohol she'd had at the bar-smelled like a mojito or two. "If you speak again," she threatened him, "I'll widen this wound and you'll bleed out right here in this chair."

* * *

"This isn't gonna work, Don," Jessica Angell said as Flack turned the block for what seemed like the fifteenth time. "Tell me again what you remember about the guy she was with."

"Couldn't hear much of the conversation," Flack said. "Too damn loud." He pinched the bridge of his nose, fully aware that he was talking to himself and hallucinating his dead partner, but in too deep now to care. "Suit and tie, ruby-colored glasses. Had a white cane. Pretty sure he was blind. Whatever she was sayin' though, it must've been good shit because even though he couldn't see her, he was _in_ to her." He'd called in her description- about five-seven, brunette, dark eyes, wearing an off the shoulder black top and short skirt. "When I went back to the bar before you showed up, I questioned the bartender. She'd never seen her in there before tonight. Our girl's an opportunist, she just takes the moment when it comes."

"Well, this guy drew a hell of a short straw," Jess muttered. "Kinda like me," she added, the statement making Flack shiver. "How in the hell did you find her, anyway?" she questioned him.

Flack actually smiled. It wasn't a _real_ smile, not by any means, there was nothing worth smiling about at the moment. It was more of an "I know something you don't know," smile. "I did my job, I _detected_," he said sarcastically.

"No shit, Sherlock," Jess said dryly. "Care to elaborate?"

"There's only one thing that connects all three guys," Flack explained. "Hell's Kitchen."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "That's….a hell of a job, Don," she said, giving him a slow clap. "I mean that only narrows it down to what, like, a hundred blocks?"

"Smart ass," he shot back. "How can you be so damn sarcastic if you're just in my head?"

"Don't ask me, I never pretended to know what went on in your head," she shrugged.

"_Anyway_, as I was saying. I did a little digging around. All three guys had been to bars before they ended up dead. Guess where those bars happened to be?"

"Hell's Kitchen?" Jess guessed.

"Hell's Kitchen," Flack confirmed.

"Whatever, Flack, there's like twenty bars in Hell's Kitchen. You just happened to be sitting in the right one tonight?"

"Kinda," Flack shrugged. "The other ones were kinda seedy and I started thinkin' that if I wanted a place where I could blend in and not draw attention to myself, this is the one I'd pick, _and_, wiseass, she's been working north. I got witnesses sayin' our first vics left with a woman that nobody can ever get a good description on." He pointed at Jess. "I lay you she's an actress. The first bar was in the Theatre District." He shrugged, spreading his arms out to indicate the neighborhood. "She's here and she's close, and now I just gotta find her."

"It's a hundred blocks, Flack," Jess pointed out as he started moving again, picking up his pace.

He didn't look back, focused on the job. "She's close. I know she is."

* * *

**Author's Note** **II**: Don-ex-machina LOL, but I mean, that's how it works on CSI, right? One magical lead to solve the case in a 43-minute time period? ;) Also, it kind of plays in to my other Flack stories. In both "As the Ball Drops" and "A Christmas Angell," Flack's feeling Jess's presence even though she's not around. I'd like to think that right after she was killed it was a little more fresh and as a result of that, the case stress, the Season 5 ending and the alcohol consumption, we're getting a full on Jess hallucination as opposed to a smell in the air or a voice on the wind. Flack's not even remotely come to terms with this and quite frankly, this many years later I'm not either!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from "Daredevil," they belong to Marvel. I also don't own the characters of "CSI:NY," they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

_2:20 AM_

Matt was dizzy and nauseous. Amanda had been cutting on his torso and arms for nearly forty minutes. The sedative was still screwing with his senses, and now the blood loss wasn't helping, either. He hadn't spoken to her and she hadn't said anything. Every now and then he'd caught her humming something under her breath, but didn't recognize the tune.

Every now and then, too, her heart would flutter. _She really is enjoying this_, he realized. He'd been testing the zip ties, flexing his wrists to see if he could loosen them, but they wouldn't budge. He thought back to his bout with Nobu. Nobu's goal had been to inflict pain, but in the end, the ultimate goal was the end of Daredevil. But Amanda…Matt fought a wave of dizziness and the strong coppery scent of his own blood. She was having _fun_. Which in the end, made her worse than Nobu…and far more dangerous. He'd known the end game with Nobu, and Fisk, but Amanda?

_No fucking clue. _Matt didn't know how this night was going to end.

Even with his blindness, Matt was used to being in control. In his alter persona, he took charge on the streets. As Matt Murdock, he thrived on being in the courtroom with evidence in hand, testimony prepared, statements practiced. All things where he was in control of events. Nobody screwed with him when he was on guard.

This…being sedated, unable to trust his senses, not being able to move…this was _hell_.

"Don't quit on me, Matt," Amanda's voice cut into his thoughts. "I'm really enjoying myself. I'm not ready for the night to be over."

"And when does it end for you, Wraith?" he asked her. He felt her shift, and the knife pulled away from his body. His heart was pounding, unsure of what she was going to do next.

"I hate that name," she said finally. "I'm nothing close to that. A wraith, by definition, is a ghostlike image of someone. Pale, thin, insubstantial." She shook her head. "The media really needs to do some research. There are a ton of other supernatural creatures I could be named after. I mean, we've got a guy in this town that's called the literal Devil."

Matt steeled his features to stay calm and impassive. "I don't think I'd call you insubstantial," he said finally.

"You flatter me," Amanda said, sounding pleased. She hopped off his lap and Matt breathed out slowly through the pinpricks of pain emanating from his chest. He felt faint, and knew it was from the blood loss, the pain, and the sedative. "Because of that, I'm gonna give you a break. Not a long one, mind you, but I need to use the ladies' room anyway. You got any wine?" Without waiting for an answer, he heard her drift toward the kitchen.

He flexed his wrists again. The zip ties moved with him but didn't budge. He was so focused on trying to get loose he missed Amanda coming back. If he'd had his full faculties about him, it never would have happened.

He heard Amanda tsking at him. "Oh Matt. You gotta quit trying to get out of this. I told you, I do a lot of reading. Studying." She rested her hands on his shoulders, her fingernails digging into the muscle. "Practicing."

"Can't…blame a guy for trying," Matt breathed. "You didn't answer my question. When does this end for you….Amanda?"

He felt her fingers in his hair and she yanked his head back, hard. He grimaced. She leaned into his ear. "Not long now," she whispered. He felt a pinprick in the side of his neck and he moaned as whatever it was coursed through him again and he faded into darkness.

* * *

3:00 A.M.

"God damn it, hold up a second," Flack said, coming to a stop inbetween blocks. He rubbed a hand over his face. "This is ridiculous. They're holed up somewhere now and she's probably torturing the hell out of him. And all this walkin' ain't helping."

"What the hell are you doing, Don?" Jess asked, leaning against the wall next to him. "You can't just stop now."

"Thinkin'," Don replied, . "Okay, let's talk about what we know. She's an opportunist, so if they've gone anywhere, it's back to his place, there's no hotels in this area." He shoved his hands in his pockets, Jess working to keep up with his strides. "Josie's is not a tourist haunt. Place gave me tetanus just by looking at it. This guy is a local."

"If he left on foot, he probably lives nearby," Jess offered. "If you didn't see a vehicle."

"I didn't, but it took me a few seconds to get out the door," he reminded her. He paused, then changed directions. "Alley. There was an alley right by the bar. If he's a local, that might be a short way home."

He checked his watch. This guy didn't have a lot of time left.

"_There's something significant about the time," Adam Ross muttered, head in his hands as he pored over the crime scene analyses. He pointed to the line in each folder._

_Flack pulled up a stool to sit next to him. "What time are we talkin' about?"_

"_The COD," Adam said. "It's around 5 in the morning every single time. That can't be a coincidence."_

"_What do you think it means?" Flack asked him._

"_I've got no damn idea," Adam replied. "But it means something to her."_

* * *

3:30 AM

It wasn't a nice rise to consciousness this time for Matt Murdock. In his mind, he was crouched on top of Clinton Church in his all-black suit, a light breeze blowing as he watched over Hell's Kitchen. It was a peaceful night, at least in his head.

A sharp pain jolted him off the roof and back into his apartment, his eyes snapping open as he groaned in pain. Or, tried to.

_After tonight, I'm swearing off ties_, he promised himself, feeling the material wrenched between his teeth and biting into his cheeks. _Let Foggy wear the ties in the firm. I'm done._ He fell silent, listening for Amanda, and feeling throbbing pain from around his collarbone. _Where the hell is she_, he wondered. He didn't feel quite so groggy this time. Whatever she'd given him, it was a lesser dose than what she'd been dosing him with all night.

_Because she wants you awake for this, Matt_, his conscience offered. _And whatever 'this' is…it's gonna hurt, because you wouldn't be gagged otherwise._

He tested his limbs. He was laying sprawled on his bed, arms and legs tied down to the legs of the bed. One of Amanda's comments from earlier replayed in his memory.

_Oh, no shit, you're Catholic? Huh, there's some inspiration for later._

He closed his eyes in frustration. _Son of a bitch._

Something splashed on his chest and he grimaced. "Didn't have time to go get holy water," Amanda's voice spoke up from somewhere near his feet. "Besides I'm pretty sure if I went into a church I'd burst into flames." He heard the grin in her voice. "But I've also heard a lot about supernatural stuff and salt."

_That's what it was. Water. Mixed with salt._ He could feel every injury she'd given him that evening as she doused him with more of the concoction. Matt tensed at the contact of the salt water with the wounds that hadn't quite healed over. "I don't know any Latin," Amanda continued. "I mean I could make something up, I guess."

Matt's response was garbled thanks to the tie in his mouth. He felt Amanda reach over, hook a finger under it and pull it down. "One more time?" she asked.

"Somehow," Matt ground out, "I don't think _I'm_ the one who needs the exorcism."

The bed creaked as she sat down next to him. "You think I have demons?" she asked him. "I don't need saving, Matt Murdock. There's nothing redeemable about me. I do this because I _want_ to. This is a character study for me," she said, dumping water over his stomach wound. Matt cried out involuntarily. "Method acting, maybe. I honestly don't know where the character ends and I start. All I know, is that this is a hell of a lot of fun, and I'm gonna keep doing it until I get caught."

* * *

Don looked around at the buildings. He kicked a wrought-iron fence in frustration. "Goddamn it. Where would they be?"

"You're not gonna make it, Flack," Jess told him, and Flack whirled on her. She leaned against the fence, elbows tucked inbetween the points of the fence. Her dark eyes flashed. "You're gonna be too late. All this is gonna be for nothing. You're not gonna save him."

"See, and this is how I know I'm dreamin', 'cause the Jess Angell I know wouldn't let me give up like that." His eyes scanned the buildings. _Think, Don, think!_

Something flashed in his peripheral vision, and he looked up to see a bright LED billboard posted on the side of one of the buildings. It looked so out of place that he thought he might be hallucinating that, too. The screen flashed white and an image of cherry blossoms painted itself in broad brush strokes, before revealing its' purpose as an ad for a Japanese airline.

"I'm a blind guy who lives in Hell's Kitchen. I'm the only person in the world who isn't gonna care about that damn thing." Flack jogged up the alley, shading his eyes against the offending bright lights. He looked at the surrounding buildings. "There. Right there." He pointed up at the building across the street from the billboard. "He lives in the corner up there."

"You sure about that?" Jess asked, running to catch up with him. "I mean, if you're wrong, this guy's dead. You don't have time to go knocking on every door in that building."

"Don't need to. I know I'm right." Flack ran up to the building, searched for a door that wasn't locked on the ground floor. "Damn it." His eyes flicked up toward the fire escape. "I hate climbing."

"You can't save him, Flack. Just like you couldn't save me," Jess said suddenly, and Flack whipped around.

"Shut up," he told her. Her eyes widened, but he got right in her face. "No. You don't get to say that to me. You were bleeding in my arms! I was the one who tried to keep you from bleedin' out in the squad car." He pointed at her, tears pricking his eyes. "You died on the table and I didn't get to say goodbye, or tell you I loved you." His voice caught. "God damn it, Jess, _you_ left _me!"_

"Is that why you're tryin' so hard to join me?" Jess asked him flatly, and he had to take a step back. "I know," she said. "I know you killed him. The guy that killed me. You shot him thinking it would make you feel better. You killed him thinking it would make it right, that it would take away the pain you're feeling." She stepped up to him. "It's not gonna bring me back. Getting this woman tonight, saving this guy? Flack, you don't need to prove anything! Not to Mac, or anybody at the precinct, and _especially_ not me!"

Flack slid to the alley floor, his head in his hands. He felt Jess sit down beside him. He could swear he felt her arm around his shoulders. "I love you, Don Flack. I'm scared for you. I don't want you going someplace dark." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I miss the light in those baby blues of yours," she said. "It's going to take time. It'll come back."

"I don't know if I can do this without you," Flack choked out. "And then everything that happened at the bar…Dan's in a wheelchair...I...We're all broken, Jess. _I'm_ broken. I don't know if there's any fixing me."

"Then let tonight be the start," Jess said, standing up. She offered him a hand. "Go get this bitch. Do this the _right_ way."

Don stood up, dusting off his jeans. He looked up at the corner apartment. "Go," Jess urged. She smiled. "I'll wait right here, on the ground."

He smirked. "Thanks."

* * *

Matt flinched as Amanda ran a finger down the side of his face. She got close enough to his face that he could smell her breath again, but he didn't have the leverage or the strength enough to give her a solid headbutt. "What happens now?" he asked her.

Amanda slid the gag back between his teeth and ran a hand almost lovingly down his face. He jerked away. She sighed dramatically. "Just realized that I didn't bring a cross. There's always a cross in the movies. I'm surprised you don't have one laying around, Mr. Catholic." Matt winced and swore as he felt the point of the knife trailing down his chest again. Then, sharp pain as she dug it in. "I think I can make one, though. If you hold still." As an afterthought she added, "Feel free to scream."

Matt gave a muffled howl of pain again as Amanda continued carving the design into his chest. His body lurched and his wounds from earlier that evening tore themselves open again. His biceps tightened and his body went rigid as he fought to get loose from the restraints keeping him tethered to his bed. The sedative was nearly out of his system and he could feel _everything_. His overheightened senses were going into overdrive, his echolocation more red than anything with tinges of black around the edges.

"You're ruining it," Amanda frowned. "I almost had a straight line going. I mean, you keep this up and I'm gonna have to start over. Now quit moving around!" She backhanded him across the face and he sagged back against the sheets.

And stayed still. Not because Amanda wanted him to, but because he could just make out footsteps coming up the fire escape. Coming up. Getting closer. Definitely a man, based on the footfalls and the speed. He could smell alcohol on his breath.

_Who in the hell is that?_ At this point, Matt didn't really care. Whether it was a normal guy or one of Fisk's guys, it didn't matter at this point-either way it was going to make Amanda quit cutting on him.

If it was one of Fisk's men, it wouldn't take much to finish him off.

If it was anybody else…Matt wasn't sure what they were going to find.

* * *

Flack's fingers gripped the window and he took a chance, pulling up. To no one's surprise, the window didn't budge. _Now what?_ he wondered. He pushed on the glass. The window didn't budge. _This is it, I know this is it._ He thought about the building, studied the fire escape. There was one more level, up to the roof. He knew some of the older rooftop units had roof exits. _Maybe if the window's closed…_ Nobody would try to break in through the roof. Flack scaled the ladder to the roof, and spotted a square hatch in the tar paper and gravel. He grinned, despite himself. _Gotcha._

* * *

4:15 AM

Matt could hear whoever it was on the roof. He cried out again, feeling blood trickle down his ribs and onto the bed. He felt Amanda run her fingers through it. "Saw this on a TV show. No idea what it means. But it looked cool," she told him, tracing a design on his bicep. Matt arced his body, trying to throw her off, but she shoved him back down to the bed, one hand digging into the stomach wound from earlier. Matt saw stars.

_He's almost here. Gotta buy some time._

And then Amanda dumped the salt water on the stomach wound and he _screamed_.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Flack hopped down from the interior stairs and drew his sidearm, hearing a muffled scream from the back of the apartment. Poking his head around the corner, he spotted her, straddling the guy from the bar, tied to the bed. She had a nasty-looking knife in one hand and there was blood-a lot of it-all over the sheets. He could see what looked like directional drops and drag marks from the living room to the bedroom. She'd been at this awhile, and he cursed himself for not getting there sooner.

"Drop the knife," he suggested, in a commanding tone, coming around the corner to face her.

She started. When she turned to face him, Flack noticed, she didn't seem all that surprised, though. "Ah. You're a cop. You know, I was gonna pick _you_ in the bar, but you already looked pretty damn miserable. I wanted somebody who was gonna last awhile."

Flack glanced at the man on the bed. He was breathing, his chest heaving in short bursts. He didn't look good. "We both know you're not gonna let me take you in," Flack said, returning his eyes to the knife in her left hand. "So should I shoot you now, or….?"

She slid the knife up to the man's throat. "Go for it," she urged. "You drop me, I'll slice him open like the guys at the fish market, and his blood'll literally be on your hands."

Flack grinned darkly. "Lady, I've already got blood on my hands." He pulled the hammer back. "I don't mind adding yours."

"You'll never know why I did it," she countered.

"Funny thing?" Flack returned, "I don't care."

* * *

Matt listened to the cop's heartbeat. It was completely calm, steady. _He really doesn't care_, Matt realized, and wondered what had happened to this guy. It was hard to think of much else, with the cold knife blade at his neck and the realization that his stomach wound was bleeding heavily. His body was starting to go numb. _Please, God…just end this one way or the other_…

"You're an odd one," Amanda said, returning her eyes to the man on the bed. "That's not normally how cops talk to the people holding someone hostage."

"Nobody has ever accused me of being normal," Flack returned. "Guessing that goes double for you?"

"How'd you find me?" Amanda asked, skirting the question.

"Lot of late nights and seedy bars," Flack shrugged. "Started up in the theatre district, picked the nastiest holes in the wall I could find. Lookin' for a girl who can blend in but keep a guy's attention. You fit that bill."

"I'm flattered."

"Shouldn't be," Flack said shortly, and he saw her flinch. He took a step into the room, his gun never straying far from center mass. "What's the matter? You that starved for attention that this is how you get it? Tie a guy up and cut on him all night until your alarm goes off at five in the morning? Got a day job? I'm bettin' it's a matinee show."

"You're adorable," Amanda said. "I'm not an actress. And you've got me all wrong, Mr. Detective."

Matt listened to the exchange. _He's trying to piss her off_. It wasn't a half bad tactic, except if it went too far, Matt was on the receiving end.

"Personally," the detective said, "I'm pretty sure you're just fucking crazy."

Amanda's heartbeat ticked and he felt her turn to look at the detective. "Fuck you," she spat. Matt felt her arm twinge. "I'm not cr-"

He felt Amanda move, heard the loud report of a police-issue pistol, and Matt cried out as her full weight landed on top of him.

* * *

Flack holstered his gun even as he was crossing the room, pulling the woman off the guy and letting her drop to the floor. It'd been a clean shot and she was now lying on the floor. He pulled his pocketknife from his pocket and cut the ropes tying the guy to the bed, then reached up and removed the tie knotted around his mouth. "Can you hear me?" Flack asked him.

"Barely," Matt whispered, trying to focus on the cop's voice.

"I'm gonna call an ambulan-" Flack was reaching for his phone when the man's hand shot up surprisingly quick.

"No. Don't. C-can't go to the hospital. Phone…kitchen. Claire. Call Claire." He wondered if this was the same speech he'd told Foggy the night of his ass-kicking at the hands of Fisk's ninja. He still didn't remember anything before waking up with a pissed off and scared Foggy in his living room.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" Flack was incredulous. "You're gonna bleed out-"

"Not…if you…hurry," Matt breathed. "…Please."

_This night just keeps gettin' weirder,_ Flack sighed, and went to go find the phone. It was the strangest phone call he'd ever had. The woman on the other end didn't even seem surprised or all that terribly concerned when he told her he was in the apartment of some blind guy that had almost been tortured to death. Flack hung up and then proceeded to try to staunch some of the bleeding from the man on the bed.

"You know, if I'm gonna be in bed with you, you could at least introduce yourself," Flack offered as he pressed harder on the wound.

Matt coughed. "M-Matt," he said after a moment, trying to get the pain and his breathing under control. "I-I ah…" he started. He tried raising a hand for the cop to shake, but couldn't get his arm much higher than his stomach.

"Thank me later if you don't bleed out first," Flack suggested.

He heard the front door open and quick footsteps coming into the apartment. "Matt?" a woman's voice called. Flack looked up to see a woman around his age carrying a small duffel. She paused at the doorway, taking in the scene.

Then she shook her head. "I don't even want to know. Slide over."

Flack knew he should've been calling in the body. But he could only watch as the woman he assumed was the Claire he'd called worked on Matt, trying to patch him up. "Don't suppose either of you want to tell me what the hell is going on here, or why I'm not calling for an ambulance?" he asked finally.

Claire glanced at Matt. "He okay?" she asked him, tossing her head at Flack.

Matt's voice was soft. "I think he's one of the good guys," he said, looking over in Flack's direction.

Flack opened his mouth to protest. But he saw Jess Angell's face in the window, smiling at him. So he didn't say a word.

* * *

A few nights later, Flack leaned against a dumpster in an alley near Clinton Church in Hell's Kitchen. The streetlights had just come on. Leaves were stirred up by the chilly fall wind, flitting down the sidewalk. Now and then, a car passed down the street but nobody paid him any mind. Apparently, strange men hanging out in alleys was passé in Hell's Kitchen.

He heard a thud on the fire escape, and he turned to see a man standing there, wearing black pants and a longsleeve black t-shirt. A half mask was tied over his nose and eyes, obscuring his features.

"You're recovering nicely," Flack deadpanned, pushing off the dumpster to face him. "So you're really him? The guy they're callin' the Devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

Matt nodded. "In the flesh. What's left of it," he grimaced, holding a hand to his side. "Claire'll kill me if I rip these stitches."

"You know, I'm not even gonna ask how you manage all of this, bein' blind," Flack told him.

"It's a long story anyway," Matt replied. "Speaking of long stories…anything on our girl Amanda?"

Flack nodded, then rolled his eyes, realizing Matt couldn't see the gesture. "Her, um, her real name is Lauren. Lauren Roberts. She is…was…an usher at one of the theatres on Broadway."

"She coulda been on the stage," Matt murmured. "What else do we know?"

"Not much. Everybody that knew her describes her as being 'totally normal'." Flack used air quotes and Matt could see them in his voice. "Pulled an address off her employee records. Apartment was interesting."

"Interesting how?" Matt placed a hand on the dumpster for support.

"We could sit down, you know," Flack offered.

Matt coughed out a laugh. "Trust me, you don't wanna know what's in this alley, and you definitely _don't_ wanna sit in it."

Flack waited for more, didn't get it, and shrugged. "Fine, then. Our girl was well-read, bookshelves ran the gamut from medical textbooks to profiling to Acting For Dummies to Goosebumps."

"She did say she did a lot of studying," Matt sighed, his free hand drifting to his stomach. "Any ideas as to motive or how she picked m-the victims?"

Flack shook his head. "Not really. Didn't really have a type. As to the motive…can't find that either."

"She said it was fun," Matt told him. "That's probably all the motive there will ever be. She went down too easy. I think she wanted to get caught, just to see what it would be like."

"Yeah, well, sorry about not giving her the perfect ending," Flack shrugged. Matt nodded, and Flack pondered that. "Jesus, she was fucking crazy." He studied Matt for a moment. "What I can't figure out is how she managed to get the jump on you, of all people. Some of the after-action reports I've seen…guys I've booked and testified against in court…I mean, you're not exactly helpless."

Matt was silent. "Didn't think she was a threat. Thought I could handle her on my own," he admitted finally. He shook his head, grateful the detective couldn't see his expression. "Sorta always been my problem; thinking I can handle things without help."

The detective's heartbeat picked up, and Matt cocked his head to listen. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who has that problem," he said. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Flack scuffed the dirt with his sneaker. "And what do you mean 'sounds like'?"

Matt shrugged, sensing it would be better just to tell him the truth. "I, um, your heartbeat picked up a little there. And you're sweating. I hit a nerve."

"You can…how…" Flack shook his head in disbelief. "I…"

Matt smirked. "Yeah, I get that a lot." He gestured to him. "I just realized…I don't know your name."

"Flack. Don Flack," the blue-eyed detective introduced himself.

The name rang a bell. "Flack….you had the partner…the one that got shot a couple months ago," Matt said. Flack's heartbeat went into overdrive. "Sorry."

"It's fine." His heart pounded.

"No, it isn't," Matt countered. "That night, at my apartment. Were you trying….you were goading her. You wanted her to make a move. I think you _wanted_ to shoot her."

"Awfully observant for a blind guy," Flack snarked at him.

Matt nodded. "I get that a lot, too," he said. "So…this whole thing some kind of vendetta? Stress relief?"

"You don't know shit," Flack countered.

"I can tell you're lying," Matt pointed out. He grimaced. "Ack, okay, I gotta sit down." He carefully picked his way over to a stoop and sat down, breathing heavily. After a moment, he spoke again. "I seriously doubt this is what your partner would've wanted."

"Funny, that's exactly what she said," Flack said. Matt frowned, confused, but Flack didn't say anything more. After a moment, Flack slid down to sit next to him. The two of them sat in silence.

"Revenge is a dark road," Matt said after a minute or two. "Hard one to come back from."

"Sound like you speak from experience."

"The guy I'm after," Matt explained, "he's done some bad things to people I care about. People my friends care about. I'm not gonna stop until he's behind bars."

"Kinda feel like I should be arresting your ass," Flack told Matt.

Matt grinned. "I'd like to see you try," he offered. Then he turned serious again. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend I know what it's been like for you. What I will say is you shouldn't be dealing with this on your own."

"You're one to talk," Flack pointed out.

Matt shrugged. "Yeah well, do as I say, not as I do," he said. Matt stood up slowly. "I gotta go." He paused, turned to look down at Flack. "You don't wanna get on the wrong side of me," he informed him. "Saving my life isn't gonna mean anything if I catch you on the wrong side of things."

"That a threat?" Flack asked him, standing to join him.

Matt shook his head, deadly serious. "A promise. You seem like a good guy. Stay that way." With those as his parting words, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen half-walked, half-limped into the darkness. Flack watched him leave, thinking.

"See?" Jess spoke up from across the alley. She pointed at Flack. "Told ya."

Flack snorted and shook his head. "Are you gonna be a pain in the ass in the afterlife too?" he asked her.

Jess grinned. "For as long as it takes."

Her partner sighed and shook his head. Then, he started walking for the street to see if he could find a cab. As he stood on the sidewalk, he pulled out his cell phone. "Monroe. Hey, it's Flack. Is…um…how's Danny doing?"

He held up a hand as a yellow cab came rolling up to the curb. "That's um…that's good. Are you guys…you up for company at all?"

* * *

Matt crouched on the roof of the apartment building, watching Flack slide into the cab, still on the phone. The cab pulled away, heading north. He nodded.

"Thanks."


End file.
